


Devil's Bargain

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael enters a bargan with T-Bag to try and control the other man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Devil's Bargain

_Don't leave me alone with him!_

Michael felt frantically nervous. He was in the tunnel under Lechero's room, digging. The only other person there was T-Bag.

Alex had left him. Lechero had left him. Even Whistler had left. They'd just gone off to do other things; Lechero had to pretend to run the prison and Whistler had a visitor.

Michael didn't have the first clue where Alex was.

The guys had all pat him on the back and promised to be back soon. Michael felt like screaming. Didn't they know who they were leaving him to? What T-Bag had wanted to do to him ever since Fox River?

"Think that wall gonna come down if ya keep starin' at it, Pretty?" the murderer chuckled, and Michael almost winced at the familiar nickname.

"I'm not talking to you, so just keep shovelling dirt, T-Bag."

"Ya know, Lechero calls me _Theodoro_ ," T-Bag grinned, looking hungrily at Michael. "Makes my name sound all fancy an' exotic, don'cha think?"

"Good for you," Michael muttered, digging harder into the packed dirt. "So you've got a new prison name. You're still the same murdering bastard you were in Fox River."

T-Bag put his makeshift shovel down. "Why ya gotta be so mean, Pretty? I ain't got nothin' against you; I just -"

"You just keep calling me _Pretty_ and making lewd suggestions," Michael snapped, viciously throwing another lump of dirt in the general direction of T-Bag. Michael dug and T-Bag shovelled. "I've had enough of it!"

"Little tense there, Pretty?" T-Bag said, his eyes glittering strangely. "Bit strung out?"

"Maybe I am, and you're not helping!" Michael barked, then turned around to scowl at the older man.

"I could be," T-Bag said lightly, edging closer to Michael. "I could-a been _real_ helpful..."

Michael glared at the other man. "Are you even listening to a word I say?"

In a flash, T-Bag had thrown himself against Michael, knocking them both to the floor of the small space that was their tunnel.

"Get off me!" Michael snarled, heaving against the other man.

"Now, Pretty, just listen," T-Bag panted, holding the younger man down. "I ain't gonna kill ya; that'd get me nowhere. But I am willin' to offer a helpin' hand, Scofield..."

Oh, the dirty sound of his last name as it slid over T-Bag's lips...

"What do you want, T-Bag?" Michael demanded, lying still underneath the older man's hard, scrawny body (not that his own was in much better condition after his time in Sona).

"I want a lotta things," T-Bag murmured in his ear. "What're ya offerin'?"

"You're already in on the escape," Michael said, trying to reason with the other man. "You're getting out, despite the fact that I'd prefer to let you rot in here. I have nothing more to offer."

T-Bag actually pinched his ass then. Michael jumped.

"Get off me, T-Bag!" Michael repeated, trying to swat the other man's hand away. "I don't want that!"

T-Bag was about to reply when the sound of a door alerted them both to someone coming. In a flash, T-Bag was off Michael, grinning at the younger man.

"Michael?"

It was Alex's voice. Michael shot T-Bag a glance and called back, "Yeah?"

"Is Lechero there?"

"Not yet. Could you see if you can find him?" Micahel said. Alex gave a sound in the affirmative and the door slammed again, leaving the two tunnellers in silence.

"Why, Pretty, your knight in shinin' armor came to save ya an' ya sent him away? I take that as a compliment," T-Bag grinned.

"You and I aren't finished," Michael stated, locking eyes with the Alabamian. "We need to establish some rules."

T-Bag's tongue flicked restlessly over his lips. "Really."

"Really really," Michael said, then took a deep breath and said, "What will it take for you to play nice?"

T-Bag's grin widened. "Depends on _how_ nice, Pretty."

Michael scowled at him. "For you not to involve any more people, not to harm _anyone_ on the team, and to stop calling me Pretty."

The murderer laughed. "Don't like it?"

"I may swing both ways but I don't like being referred to as one of your bitches," Michael said, smiling mirthlessly at the other man. "So what will it take for you to play nice?"

T-Bag's eyes widened. "So we _do_ have somethin' in common, Scofield. I knew ya couldn't be straight; not with that tail."

The crude laughter filled the tunnel. Michael winced. He knew he was playing high stakes, but he just couldn't focus on the plan with T-Bag pestering him!

"Regardless, you still haven't answered my question. And I generally prefer women. We have nothing in common," Michael said coldly. He didn't want the older man to get any other ideas than the one Micahel planted in his mind.

"I want that fine wagon you're draggin'," T-Bag said, licking his lips. "Before the escape."

"No way in hell," Michael countered quickly. "My ass is not a part of this deal, and that's non-negotiable."

T-Bag laughed again, and Michael felt his lips twitch in response. If he hadn't know how dangerous the other man was, the discussion would have been comical.

"Well, then, Pretty, how 'bout ya lend me those lips for a re-placement?" the Alabamian suggested, still grinning lasciviously.

Michael thought for a moment. He'd given head before, and it wasn't that big a deal. If he could just get rid of T-Bag's obsession with him once and for all, it would be worth it.

"Fine. One blow job, tonight. Then you'll behave until we part ways on the outside," he stated, raising his chin in challenge.

The older man's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "Ya tuggin' on my leash, Pretty?"

"It's an honest offer, T-Bag," Michael said, smirking. The murderer really did seem desperate. "One blow job, and then you'll act like a normal person for the remainder of the escape."

"Two," T-Bag said, recovering quickly from his surprise at the sudden offering. "One right now, one tonight. Without clothin' on your part."

Michael scoffed. "One, tonight; no weapons on either party and you get to grope me through my clothes."

T-Bag's eyes were burning by now, and his lower lip was thoughtfully being chewed on between two glistening rows of teeth. "That, an' I get to 'grope ya' right now."

Michael held out his hand. "Done."

T-Bag's grin was extremely unnerving as he reached out and took Michael's hand. They shook, but the handshake was cut rather short as T-Bag gave a sudden tug and the younger man toppled forwards.

"Just checkin' out the merchandise," the Alabamian grinned, then ran a hand up Michael's arm to his shoulder, proceeded to his neck and then over his lower lip.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he'd just made another deal with the devil. He didn't need to see the older man's face to know that his eyes were darkening with hunger. Didn't need to see his hand to know that it was sliding wantonly over his back.

"Theodoro! Where is the phone?"

T-Bag yanked his hands away from Michael as if burnt. He shoved the younger man to his knees. "Here, _patron_!"

Seconds later, Lechero entered the tunnel and collected the phone from T-Bag's hand. "Keep digging," he said, "the others will be back soon."

Michael drew a shuddering breath. The worst part of the bargain was over. After all, for the rest of it, _he'd_ be in charge.


	2. Paying Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted as two separate stories, but I've linked them for archival purposes.

_You'll be in charge, remember, you'll be in charge, just calm down. You've struck a deal and he'll stick to it. You're in charge._

Michael kept telling himself that. It didn't make him any less apprehensive about what he was about to do.

“Where are you going, Michael?” Alex asked, frowning at the pile of dirt he was supposed to be shovelling.

“You dig, I plan,” Michael said. “Does that work for you?”

Alex shrugged. “Then send T-Bag down here. We need some help.” Whistler nodded in agreement.

Michael hoped to higher powers he weren't blushing as he replied, “Sure. I'll, uh, try and find him.”

In fact, he was going to find T-Bag. He had a bargain to fulfil. And he hoped to high heavens that everything would go according to plan.

Once back in the corridors of Sona, he went to his “old” cell. T-Bag would be waiting for him there.

_Him and his... bargaining chip._

Michael almost laughed at that. He'd never considered striking a deal like this before. Would it have worked back in Fox River? Had things been different if he'd given T-Bag head back then?

“There you are, Pretty.”

Michael grimaced. T-Bag was reclining on the bunk, his loose trousers already beginning to tent in front. The murderer's lips were curled in a smile that made Michael want to carefully back out of the room, find a tranquillizer gun and call the WSPA to ask if he'd be fined for taking out a bipedal cross between snake, wolf and vampire.

“I thought we agreed you were supposed to stop calling me that,” Michael said, swallowing against his dry throat.

“I will, soon as the deal's completed,” T-Bag replied. He got to his feet and approached Michael. “Now, for the good part...”

Michael closed his eyes and grit his teeth, determined not to freak out over this. “What do you want first?”

T-Bag didn't respond. He only moved behind Michael, placing a hand on either of the younger man's shoulders. He dragged his hands down, raising goose bumps in their wake. When the hands were resting on Michael's hips, T-Bag slid them around until he was circling Michael's waist.

“Play nice, eh, Pretty?” he chuckled, breathing hot air over Michael's ear. “I can do that.”

One of the Alabamian's hands slid down to cup his ass, and Michael did his best not to grunt. He didn't want this; really, he didn't...

_Which would be why, of course, you're getting hard right now._

He was. Michael was getting hard, because one hand was groping his ass wantonly and another was sliding all over his chest and stomach, the warmth of it seeping through his t-shirt. And T-Bag wasn't doing anything to freak him out; the older man was simply copping a feel.

_Shit._

The hand on his front slid down until it was cupping him through his jeans, firmly kneading him to hardness. Michael bit his lip, keeping his eyes closed. He imagined some tall, handsome man touching him. With slender hands. And a sensuous touch.

And hot, hot breath on his neck until he couldn't stop the tiny moan escaping him.

The hands disappeared in less than a heartbeat. Michael's eyes snapped open, and he turned, disoriented, to find T-Bag leaning against the wall.

“Now, Pretty. On your knees.”

Michael glared at the older man. “Done groping me?”

T-Bag grinned. “'Less ya want some more. That, uh, condition sure seems uncomfortable.” He nodded at Michael's groin and laughed.

Michael just knew he was blushing now. Raising his head challengingly, he stepped over to the other man and began searching him for hidden weapons.

“Ooh, feisty!” T-Bag drawled, letting Michael complete his search. “Eager, eh?”

“Show me your mouth,” Michael demanded. “You don't have that razor blade in there, do you?”

T-Bag opened his mouth, waggling his tongue about. “Nuh-uh. Left it back in ol' mister Mafia's throat.”

Michael scowled at him, but the Alabamian only grinned and tugged on the waistline of his own trousers.

“I'm gettin' impatient, Pretty. How 'bout ya get on with it?”

Michael slowly knelt down, looking angrily up at T-Bag. “If you try anything...”

T-Bag gave a snort. “I know, I know, ya'll gonna leave me to rot in here. But why would I wanna try anythin' at all when I'm already gettin' exactly what I want?”

Michael looked the older man in the eyes for a moment, trying to detect a lie. But the only thing he found was lust, and so he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

“No teeth, now,” T-Bag laughed, and Michael pulled the trousers down, followed by the older man's underwear.

T-Bag was ready to fulfil both this and that, it would seem.

_Okay, just like you always do it, remember? Hand around base, there we go, hold him steady... Oh, okay, didn't plan on him enjoying this_ that _much._

At Michael's touch, the murderer's erection surged in his hand, hard and hot. Michael licked his lips nervously, then leant in. He opened his mouth.

“Oh, hell!” T-Bag groaned, his hands flat against the wall behind him.

Michael let the heated flesh push further into his mouth, looking up at the older man. He really was enjoying this, if that look of intense pleasure on his face was anything to go by.

_No deep-throating here, no sir!_

Michael pulled back a bit, leaving the head just inside his lips. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, until the taller man was grunting in discomfort. Then he bobbed his head a few times, his tongue sliding along the underside of T-Bag's cock.

_Fuck. I have T-Bag's cock in my mouth. Oh holy shit._

And if Michael had been hard before, he became uncomfortably so when T-Bag gave the most amazingly aroused groan and rocked his hips a little.

“Mm, Pretty, ya have... no idea... how long I been waitin' for this,” the murderer panted, letting Michael control his hips' motion by placing his hands flat against them. “Evah... evah since the first day I saw ya.”

Michael tilted his head, bobbing faster. His tongue joined in the action and T-Bag drew a sharp breath. Michael didn't want to be aroused by this, but he was a man, after all, and this was sex...

“Pretty!” T-Bag cried, and Michael could feel him pulsing in his mouth. He was going to -

Michael pulled back, but T-Bag was already there and Michael's mouth was suddenly flooded with the murderer's come. He held perfectly still while T-Bag thrust forward, pumping with short strokes between his lips.

“Ngh!”

_Okay, that's the last of it. Spit, now._

Michael didn't spit, mainly because T-Bag was only now slipping out of his mouth and still standing right in front of him.

_Doesn't taste that bad..._

_Michael! You spit that out right now!_

He turned to the side and spat. The taste, of course, didn't go anywhere.

“What, ya don't swallow?” T-Bag said, his voice thick with lingering pleasure and satisfaction.

Michael sneered at him. “You do?”

T-Bag laughed again, the sound somehow sultry. “Did when I was your age, boi.”

Michael made a face at him, then got to his feet. “Disgusting.”

“What's the matter, Scofield? Don't want me to help with that condition o' yours?” T-Bag said, slowly redressing. “I know it wasn't part o' the deal but I'd do ya a favour...”

Michael turned his head away. “I'm not... This has nothing to do with you.”

T-Bag's hand shot out, cupping Michael's half-erection. “Sure it ain't. That don't mean I can't fix it.”

Michael contemplated his options. Go somewhere secluded and jerk off, go back to the others and ignore it, or let T-Bag... do whatever it was T-Bag was planning to do.

“I think I'll go with ignore it,” he said, making T-Bag cock his head to the side and frown. “I mean, no.”

But T-Bag's hand was persistently stroking him, making him harder by the second. It was only sex, after all.

“Oh, I think ya'll change your mind,” T-Bag hissed, then reached for Michael's fly. “Whaddaya say, Scofield? Let Teddy give ya a helpin' hand.”

Michael didn't reply, but let T-Bag open his jeans and push them down a bit. He also let the older man reach into his shorts and pull on his erection. And he let him stroke said erection. T-Bag was enthusiastically jerking him off; standing face to face, Michael couldn't help but lean in until he and T-Bag were panting into the skin of each others' neck. And that hand never ceased its motion.

“Ah, Pretty, this could-a been so much better, if ya'd only agreed to my first offer,” T-Bag purred, stroking faster as Michael groaned into his neck. “I could-a had so much fun with ya.”

Michael closed his eyes, smelling sweat and the other man and sex. He let his hips buck slowly into T-Bag's fist. Oh, shit, this felt so good...

“Come on, Scofield, it couldn't-a been that bad,” T-Bag's voice hissed in his ear. “I could-a taken _real_ good care o' ya. An' that fine tail o' yours...”

Michael was so close, so close he could come if...

“Shut up,” he ground out. “Just jerk me off and shut up!”

T-Bag grinned against his skin, but didn't say anything more. Not until Michael was making little cries of pleasure, hips bucking hard into the older man's hand, and the younger man was coming in hard pulses of pleasure.

“Pretty.”

And Michael couldn't stop his orgasm, but he just knew he'd never come again without thinking about the Alabamian's calloused hand around his cock.


End file.
